


Satisfaction

by zempasuchil



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-01
Updated: 2010-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zempasuchil/pseuds/zempasuchil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gratuitous sexytiems for strategic warrior boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Satisfaction

It's not Katara being taken in by Jet (physically, ideologically swept off her feet) that bugs him the most. Or even Aang, though the kid should know better; even though he's a kid he's a monk, he's supposed to be level-headed about this sort of thing. It doesn't bug Sokka that he only has a hunch to go by, because he makes a living off trusting his instincts, even though it drives him mad that he can't just _show_ the others how very, very wrong they are about Jet. It's Jet himself that is driving Sokka to the edge, his smirk and the easy way he pulls people in with just a few words and an intense gaze. He makes it so easy to trust him that Sokka immediately rebels. And now, now he knows why.

"What the _fuck_ ," he bursts out. He's followed Jet to what seems to be a bedroom, where a few blankets are spread out and lumped up but no one is around but the two of them.

"That again?" Jet looks over his shoulder and rolls his eyes. "I'm done talking."

Jet puts a rough hand on his shoulder to push past him, but Sokka won't let him again. He pivots and grabs Jet's shoulder, spins him around (Jet's got a little surprised look on his face - he didn't realize how strong Sokka's arms were, did he) and then Sokka's the one pushing him backwards, shoving repeatedly at both of his shoulders, and Jet only stumbles back because he's caught off-guard by Sokka's sudden aggression.

"You cocky bully, you think you can push _us_ around, and that old man? You asshole, you _fanatic_ , you're fucking _crazy_ , you need mental _help_ \- "

After a few short seconds of widened eyes, though, the corners of Jet's mouth quirk and lift, and spread, and that wicked smirk is back on his face as soon as Sokka has him backed up against the wall of the tree house. Sokka's still pushing at his shoulders, crowding his space, but instead of flattening himself against the wall Jet leans into Sokka's touches, sticks his neck out (oh, but only literally, never figuratively), and gets in his face.

"I didn't know you cared," Jet nearly croons, if a low husk like that could be called crooning.

And the room spins, and Sokka suddenly finds their positions reversed, with the taller Jet trapping him against the slatted board wall, hands planted firmly at either side of his head.

This doesn't mean the fight's ended, though. Sokka's been bottling up his frustration for a few days now and he's not about to let this go to waste. He glares at Jet and grabs fistfuls of his shirt and pulls him closer so he won't miss a word.

"A whole lot fucking more than you do, apparently. So keep the hell away from my sister."

Jet laughs and says, "Sure, whatever you want," close enough for Sokka to feel the puff of his breath on his mouth. "You think I was really after her?"

"Your _hands_ were after her," Sokka growls, shaking the unflappable Jet by the shirt.

"Here," Jet says, "let me make it up to you," and before Sokka can even think about what on earth that means he's being kissed thoroughly, viciously, teeth clacking together. He bites at Jet's lip and Jet bites back, and this is the weirdest kind of fighting Sokka's ever done but it's a fight (he's still got Jet's shirt twisted in his grasp) and he's going to win it (his foot is just about hooked behind Jet's ankle, ready to swipe.)

Still trapping him there with his arms, Jet pulls his mouth away but steps in closer; he presses his hips against the other's and grinds, hard, making Sokka whine as an electric jolt shoots from his groin up to his belly. Jet's hands are on Sokka's shoulders, his neck, his waist, stroking down to cup his ass.

"You like this? My hands after you, now, instead of her? I think you like it," Jet says, speaking for Sokka in his breathless state.

Sokka doesn't need to speak, though; he growls and hooks his foot behind Jet's heel, and shoves. Jet falls back and goes down with Sokka's follow-through, and soon it is Sokka who's got Jet pressed against the floor, full-length, breathing heavily into each others' mouths.

Jet arches up into the contact and Sokka presses down and _bites_ the corner between Jet's neck and shoulder. He shouts and Sokka muffles it with his mouth, hard.

"What was that about making it up to me?" he says, and Jet pants with laughter. He wraps his legs around Sokka's hips and _grinds_ , and Sokka, trying not to whine again, sees white from the pressure and friction.

"Whatever you want, baby, I can make everything up to you if you just let me."

It's Sokka's turn to laugh now. " _Ha_ ," he barks, and shoves Jet's hands away from the waist of his own brown pants. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm the one on top. So what I say," yanking his own leggings down and around his thighs, "goes."

Jet opens his mouth but Sokka covers it with his hand, sits on Jet's chest, unwraps his own loincloth. "I thought you were done talking. You want to do this the easy way, or the hard way?"

Jet's eyes are wide, almost manic. In some sort of response, he reaches out to stroke Sokka with a tight fist, and grins, still panting.

"You eager bastard," Sokka groans, and drags Jet over (or Jet nudges him, he never can tell) to the wall, where Jet wraps his smirking lips around Sokka's cock and Sokka sags against the dry wooden slats, a hand fisted in Jet's hair.

It doesn't take long for Jet's clever (practiced) tongue to make white light flash behind Sokka's eyelids again, and the heat pools in Sokka's belly, rushing, twingeing - he comes with hot flush and a strangled cry and nearly yanks out Jet's hair by the roots. Jet takes it all and spits when Sokka's done, but the taste is still there when he pins Sokka to the wall with another kiss - no less fierce, but longer, more probing. Sokka generously kisses back, lazy and satisfied.

"Jet!"

Sokka startles at how close the voice sounds, but Jet is already on his feet, deftly tugging his clothes straight, and at the door before Sokka can pull up his leggings.

"Hey!" he whispers as loud as he can.

"Not satisfied?" Jet drawls.

"Just because -"

"Don't worry, I'll be back," and Sokka's cock twitches at his wicked voice.

Before he can say anything else, though, Jet's gone, and Sokka scrambles to get dressed before anyone decides to come looking for him.


End file.
